


chills run down my spine as our fingers entwine

by crocustongues



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, fight me tbh, it's another story in parts !!! im a sucker for those ok, pure fluff, yamakage week 2017 n im late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocustongues/pseuds/crocustongues
Summary: in which we learn how yamaguchi and kageyama met, what yamaguchi is like when he procrastinates, and exactly how much kageyama loves himor, how blueberry cupcakes are magic





	chills run down my spine as our fingers entwine

**Author's Note:**

> hey @ everyone who creates yamakage content i love u we are bffs n this is for u (also special thanks goes to tumblr user bennettflynt because they organised this whole thing n their art is amazing im)

i.

University to Yamaguchi is tea breaks with Tsukishima and Yachi between oceans of workload and snatched naps in Kageyama’s lap on lazy afternoons when coursework could temporarily be given the blind eye. Guilt could come later, for all Yamaguchi cared, as he looped an arm around Kageyama’s side, with hazy dreams of a blushing Kageyama.

It had begun with an ill-timed fire alarm—Kageyama had barged out with a pair of shorts and shampoo suds in his hair, and Yamaguchi had turned tomato-red, dying a thousand deaths. With coaxing (both from his heart and Yachi), he’d wracked up enough courage in his ribs to knock at Kageyama’s door to ask if Kageyama would mind terribly if Yamaguchi left some cupcakes he’d baked an extra batch of on accident?

Kageyama had agreed, a strange soft look on his face as he welcome Yamaguchi inside. Thus had begun their seamless transition into each other’s lives.

(And Yamaguchi fell into routine and in love.)

ii.

Kageyama’s hands are perpetually cold and Yamaguchi takes a special kind of pleasure in holding his boyfriend’s hands in his own, warming them himself.

In the winters, Kageyama’s cold hands are an Actual Certified Terror because Yamaguchi is ticklish and Kageyama knows no mercy. 

(The ice-cold vice-like grip on Yamaguchi’s wrist in the middle of a dense crowd in Shinjuku, where they’re out shopping for Yachi’s birthday, is both oddly grounding and makes his heart soar.)

iii.

They’re both terrible at time management, Yamaguchi waits until the last second to submit his thesis for a go-over to his professor (likely panicking over punctuation, for all Kageyama can tell), and Kageyama himself is sat motionless in front a vast expanse of empty canvas.

At 3:44 am, Yamaguchi ties his hair up in a ponytail for the fiftieth time, and hunches over his laptop at the foot of the bed, scanning lines and lines of minute text, light reflecting off of his glasses eerily, and Kageyama’s looking at him with same strange soft look he first had on when he saw Yamaguchi at the doorway with an accidental batch of blueberry cupcakes, flour on the nose and all.

(Sketchpad in hand and blushing heavily, he wonders if Yamaguchi’s tongue tastes of blueberries right now, and leans over to find out.)

iv.

Kageyama is _late_. By _three and a half hours._

There’s a thunderstorm raging outside.

Two unrelated events which Yamaguchi shouldn’t think twice about, but he has called Tsukishima fourteen times now, sounding more anxious by the minute, and Tsukishima, to his credit, hasn’t said a word about decking Kageyama in the face. For which Yamaguchi is grateful, but he’s worried, and what if something’s happened, he can’t bear to think about it and—

There’s a frantic ringing of the doorbell, and it’s Kageyama, dripping from head to toe with eight red roses in a bouquet. They’re silent for a whole minute, drinking each other in, before Yamaguchi pulls him in for a hug. 

To Kageyama, it feels like home.

(“You’re late,” Yamaguchi says, later on, drying Kageyama’s hair with an ugly pink towel that they haven’t got around to throwing out.

“You’re beautiful,” Kageyama blurts out.)

v.

It’s a warm and peaceful Wednesday afternoon, and two boys are curled up in navy bed sheets.

A thin band of golden sunshine falls across their intertwined hands, reflecting off of twin gold bands. Whispered affirmations of love are exchanged between sporadic tickles.

Kageyama traces a familiar path across Yamaguchi's cheeks, both bathed in a pale pink blush. A thumb brushes over knuckles, a kiss on the cheek, on the forehead, on the lips.

[some minute details: a heap of dirty laundry at the foot of the bed, some polaroids from a holiday spent in Spain, lovebites littering Yamaguchi’s neck, a lone sneaker peaking out from under the bed, a finished sketchbook lying next to a half eaten blueberry muffin, an antique star chart hanging crookedly on the wall, and a record playing a love song faintly from a few rooms away.]

**Author's Note:**

> this was a writing exercise my pal and i did and i decided to edit it a little for yamakage week !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is late thanks
> 
> the title is from the owl city song if my heart was a house which is from the owl city album ocean eyes so if u think yamaguchi hasnt thought of kageyama while listening to this u r mistaken pal
> 
> my tumblr: @iceandbrimstone (to yell about yamakage !!!!!!!) and my twt: @kirikamis (even more yelling !!!!!!!!!!)
> 
> (also the "you're late" "you're beautiful" line is remixed from [jaywalking by nuitdenovembre on LJ](http://nuitdenovembre.livejournal.com/4586.html) which is an aph fic that i adore thanks bye dont be fooled im not that Original n Creative)


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